The Woe of Shadows (Heavy Lies the Crown: Prequel) by D. Fischer

Author:D. Fischer [Fischer, D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Divinus Kingdom Publishing
Published: 2020-10-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

“I think this flower will suit my daughter well,” Amala says to Beau. Today is Nefari’s birthday, and it’s the queen’s job to have the final say on the decorations, agenda, entertainment, and so on and so forth. As nervous as she’s been about this day, she’s dreamed of it. An eighth birthday is an honor for any shadow person, and she wants it to go as smoothly as possible.

Beau bows and scuttles away with the flowers, directing a handful of other women. They begin the table arrangements with the flower of choice, accenting it with shades and colors that go well with the blue petals.

“Drape that a little lower,” Amala shouts to those decorating the beams with ropes stringed of lanterns. Inside each lantern is the shining poisonous beetle, which will provide the nightly, starry effect the shadow people are known for. “Make sure it’s secure, too. The last thing we need is for the ropes to slip from their hold and crash down on the heads of our guests.”

“Yes, My Lady,” they say in unison.

Amala places her hands on her hips, blows a stray lock of hair from her eyes, and turns to view the throne room. On the dais is the table where the royals and honored guests will sit. The table settings are already there, glistening with their polished shine. A servant preps the other tables with the same, but with smaller platters and plates. A small stage is being erected in the corner for the musicians, and the hammering of nails into wood is a steady pound to Amala’s ears.

“My Queen,” a familiar voice says. Amala turns, a grin on her face, and finds Gen already in a bow. Behind her are two shadow women, their arms full of garments.

Amala intervenes before they can attempt their bow. “Please, there is no need.” She grasps Gen’s hand. “Thank you for doing this. May I see what your brilliant mind has sewn?”

“Of course,” Gen says nervously. Amala frowns at her shaky, unsure tone. Perhaps the stress of the day was too much on the older woman.

Gen waves to the women behind her, and they stagger forward. First, Gen pulls Amala’s dress from the pile, holding the garment up for the queen’s view.

“Oh,” Amala gasps, running her fingers over the soft fabric of her deep blue dress. “This is lovely, Gen. You have outdone yourself.”

“Thank you, My Lady.”

There’s a wavering to her voice Amala hasn’t heard before. Instead of commenting on it, however, she presses on, her attention returning to the garments. “And Nefari’s?”

Another dress is pulled from the stack in the other lady’s arms. The dress is a lighter shade and stitched with a material that resembles tiny stars. “Oh,” Amala gasps, grasping the dress by the shoulders and holding it out in front of her. She peeks over the neckline. “Oh Gen, she’s going to love this.”

Gen’s bottom lip trembles with a weak smile. Frowning, Amala drapes the dress over the other garments and places a concerned hand on her shoulder.

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